The Invitation
by Celinarose
Summary: Minerva receives an invitation from a former friend.


He visits her years after they first met. Perhaps once upon a time, she might have believe that there was a possibility of something between them, but now... he is a monster, and she is among those who have resolved to fight him. He has killed many, hundreds, perhaps. She hasn't counted, though she could have, maybe even _should have._ But he had her heart once, long ago, and she will not let that resurface or be revealed, to anyone.

She doesn't expect his visit, that cold, windy night, after all the time they spent. She knows what she ought to do. She should have informed Dumbledore, or any of the Order member, of his whereabouts, but instead, she lets him in her home. A part of her is screaming at her, " _No. He is dangerous."_ She pays it no heed. How can she, when he looks, even now, so much like the man who held her heart? How can she betray his charming smirk that sent her heart aflutter? How could she believe he was the monster they said he was?

He brings her a present, as he does always. Before, it was trinkets, mementos that she knew to never ask the origin of. But now, it is different. He brings her something simpler, yet more intimate. He offers her an invitation to his home in his convincing voice, his tone coercing her to accept. He tells her she will find his new home much more pleasant than his old, run down one. She cannot accept, she _should not_ accept, and yet, one word escapes her lips.

"Yes," she whispers, despite herself, despite knowing she is most likely walking into a trap, despite the images and warnings that flash in her mind. He extends his hand, and on his face is a well remembered smile that she has not yet learnt to resist, though she should. She takes it, and his touch makes shivers run down her spine, as they Apparate away and she appears, breathless and dizzy, right in front of a mansion.

He leads her, gently, carefully up the gravel path, and even offers her his coat when the cold wind swirls around her, making her shake slightly. She is surprised at his gesture, and touched, almost. When she turns to him, his face half lit by the dim moonlight, she cannot, even though she tries, see the man she is fighting a war against. She sees his pride, his ambition, but she finds humanity in his eyes, and she cannot deny its existence, despite her head, which tells her the same.

He opens the door, which creaks softly and echoes into the dark night that they leave behind when they step inside. The room too, however, is dimly lit, with only a few candles and some chandeliers high above lighting their way. It is a vast space though, amply furnished, and certainly nothing like his old, ruined abode. He smiles and turns to her to gauge her reaction. She stares back into his eyes and swallows nervously, as if she were a schoolgirl again. _This is foolish,_ she tells herself. _This is all wrong. He is...the Dark Lord. He is Voldemort..._

Her thoughts are pushed away into a forgotten corner of her mind the moment he snakes an arm around her waist, making her breath hitch. He waves his wand with his other hand, and from some unseen corner of the mansion, soft music starts up, its echoes blending with the word themselves. He then takes her hand, and lifts it to his lips.

 _Silver couches to recline upon_  
 _And ornaments of gold_  
 _Silver moonbeams dance in fountains_  
 _Below shining citadels_

She is surprised at the old formality, and suddenly, before she knows it, the furniture is pushed the the walls, leaving enough space for the both of them, in the centre of the room, right under the chandelier that swings gently, in time with their feet. He twirls her with practiced, perfect moves, and she follows his lead in perfect rhythm, much to her own astonishment. As they glide across the old wooden floor, the candlelit shadows flickering beneath them, she realises how close his lips are to her own. He is muttering, _singing along to the song,_ in a soft, deep voice, barely even audible to her, despite the proximity.

 _We can drink from silver vessels_  
 _We can feed from silver bowls_  
 _Then I'll give you gilded treasures_  
 _Anointed by intoxicating oils_  
 _Drenched in riches unimaginable_

Then, he suddenly leans forward until his lips are right next to her ear, and as he turns her, she hears him whisper the next line right into her ear.

 _Your splendour drips with jewels that are so beautiful_

Hearing him sing makes her take a deep breath of pure ecstatsy. _He has never sung to her before. It is the most beautiful thing she has ever heard._ She leans into him, bringing his pale arms around her. Her eye catches the dark symbol engraved onto his left forearm, standing out even in the dim light, and suddenly, realisation hits her. Her shock brings an abrupt stop to their dance, as she stares at him wit cold eyes, the magic of the wonders he had to show her, suddenly gone, replaced by disgust and a tinge of fear.

 _Oh lover do bring_

 _Ornaments of gold_  
 _Protect our hearts from this cruel world_  
 _Ornaments of gold_

Cruel world indeed. _How could she have fallen for this?_ She finds her position is not favourable. She is alone, in an old, unknown mansion, with only the Dark Lord for company, and only her wand for defence. The odds are against her. The dark figures cast by the candles are no longer enchanting; they strike fear into her heart now. The dance they had danced seems to spell her doom now. The song continues to play, singing about cold souls and ornaments of gold, but she no longer finds it melodious. It is haunting, almost as terrifying as the man standing in front of her, smirking as he too must have realised that the spell was broken.

"Minerva," he says, in that voice, that only moments ago would have undone her. But now, she meets his eyes unflinchingly. Sheis afraid, but he must not know, for she knows he feeds on fear.

"Tom," she says, her hand on her wand, lest he make some quick moves.

But that is all the conversation they have, for he laughs aloud at her voice. It is nothing like the laugh she remembers, for now it terrifies her, and she shudders at its echoes.

Moments later, the candles blow out, snuffed out by the powerful spells of the duel they fight. The room is still lit, however, by the curses and hexes, the cruelest ones they can find, that they throw at each other. To an outsider, it almost looks like fireworks, brighter than a thousand suns, in the dark of large hall.

She is well-trained, well-practiced, for that is what it means to be a part of the Order. but he has an advantage, always has had one. She has never defeated him in a duel before. Once upon a time, losing a duel to him meant a few laughs and a gleam of victory in his eyes. Now, it means all that, But so much more. It means her end. It means her failure, She would fail them, but most of all, she would fail herself, something she cannot risk.

Yet, not much later, despite he best efforts she finds herself on the floor, wandless, his wand at her neck. He looks at her smiling cruelly, like a predator who has caught his prey. She knows now, that that is what she has been, all along. _Prey. Trapped. A pawn. A plaything._

Yes, she realises that now, but it is too late for her. She has lost his game. She had walked into it of her own accord, and she had no one to blame, _not even him._

He begins to cast the spell, the well-known, fearsome Unforgivable that is to never escape the lips of the heart of one who is pure. He speaks in the same voice as he had before. Soft, gentle, convincing, almost as if he were putting her to sleep and not...

She wants to close her eyes, knowing what will come next, but she cannot tear her eyes away from his. In the darkness, they seem to shine slightly, as if with tears. _She must be imagining it; she has to be,_ she tells herself. _For why would there be tears in his eyes, to match her own? He is cold, unfeeling...and yet...could it be?_

He finishes casting the spell, but she thinks she hears his voice choke slightly at the end, just before the green light escapes his wand and hits her. She smiles as it does, making her world go dark, finally safe in the knowledge that she had been longing for.

* * *

 ** _Notes; For my amazing cap'n, Kat! I hope you liked it._**

 ** _Of course, this is an AU where Minerva and Tom went to Hogwarts together, and Minerva dies._**

 ** _For the Goth Day Event at the Golden Snitch: Prompt: Minerva McGonagall,_** ** _Your splendour drips with jewels that are so beautiful_**

 ** _Also for the Ollivander's Wand Shop: Prompt: Write a story set before the Marauder's Era._**

 ** _And for the Through the Universe Challenge: Prompt: brighter than a thousand suns_**


End file.
